Are You There, God? It's Me, Ted Chaough
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: Ted Chaough's minister makes him keep a private diary after his marriage counseling retreat, and in the process, starts admitting a few interesting things about his creative director, Peggy Olson.
1. Chapter 1

_After their retreat, Ted and Nan Chaough's minister privately suggested Ted keep a diary of his emotions to help guide himself through dark times. Only recently did he pick up a pen and begin to write in it. It currently sits inside his office desk and he writes in it at lunchtime. Here are a few recent excerpts._

-o0o-

March 15, 1968

Boy howdy, things are going pretty well! I just got notice that our Miss Olson was nominated for an ANDY award this year! That's the sound of me patting myself on the back. When Ted Chaough goes for the gold, sometimes things just fall into place!

And Peggy really is gold. The agency's been picking up tremendously since Peggy came on board the good ship CGC last year. What a gal! I was just telling Nan that she's the only Creative I have who got nominated this year. I admit I might have gushed a little, but the work she did with Koss was so fantastic; I'm sure she's going to get a Clio for it next year. That will be such a feather in our cap. If anyone deserves an award, it's that girl. I've never seen anyone like her. Such a hard worker. So talented.

Also on the good side, my sister Bea got me a cashmere sweater for my birthday. It's really soft. I love cashmere!

I am looking forward to going tête-a-tête with Don Draper over this ketchup business. I had to give some advice to Peggy that in advertising, friendships take back seat to business, but I might have been a little harsh on her. See, I had someone backstab me years ago and we were FURIOUS about it, but hey - we're still friends outside of work. That's just the way things are. She'll get over it. She's a feisty one. Anyway, I'm going to be dreaming of ketchup, ketchup, ketchup!

-o0o-

March 24, 1968

Ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong? It started when I spilled Red Rose tea all over my jacket. I got sent a few comp boxes by the company to try to see if we might be interested in their account. I love that tea! There's pottery figurines in it! Ingenious advertising! Anyway, I opened a box to get the little birdie inside, when my elbow knocked the cup over and it smashed on the floor. Nan was furious because the cup was an heirloom and my coat had just been dry cleaned, so I had to wear the plaid jacket instead. She's not really a fan of my turtlenecks. I keep telling her that it's more comfortable than wearing ties every day, but she just rolls her eyes every time I open my mouth these days, and it can be a real drag, if I'm being truthful. The retreat was supposed to clear some of that stuff up between us, but she's been such a bear lately. So I've been just working later and later every night.

I digress. After that fiasco at breakfast, we had our showdown at the hotel with Heinz. Seeing that look on Don's face was PRICELESS. I live for moments like that. I love it! Going head-to-head with Draper. And Peggy was brilliant. She just got up there and gave her spiel like a champ. I was so proud of her. This was her first big pitch for CGC, and she nailed it. I saw feet under the door jamb while she was talking. Pretty sure it was Draper! I thought for sure we had it in the bag, with Peggy's charm.

Unfortunately, when we left our pitch meeting – there was Ralph from J. Walter Thompson, and I instantly knew we were done for. I was right. Ralph said something along the lines of "Ted Chaough! He's too damn nice for this business! We got it in the bag!" I hate when people say I'm nice. I am too nice, dammit. There's no room for nice people in advertising.

We stuck around for a few minutes and listened to their pitch through the door, and I saw the writing on the wall. So I said to Peggy, "Looks like we better eat humble pie with Draper and Co."

We went over to the agency bar, Big Red's, across the street. It's where everyone from all agencies usually congregates after meetings. They make a great Old Spanish there! I got Peggy a drink to cheer her up. Draper was in a bad mood. I was determined not to be completely grumpy about it. Try, try, again. But this business is rigged. It's getting harder to be one of the little guys. Even with a genius like Peggy in charge of Creative, it's just unfair. Don apparently doesn't get it, or he's still pissed at me. It's too bad about Pete. He's looking rough these days. He would have been great for CGC.

Peggy and I headed back about a half hour later. She was not in a very good mood, so I tried cheering her up with my Dick Van Dyke impression. I do it at all the parties! It got a laugh out of her. I love Peggy's laugh. It's really silly. She reminds me of my college co-ed friend, Alice. I adored that girl! I often wonder what could have happened if I'd gotten the guts to ask Alice out to that formal instead. Peggy even looks a little like her, too. Funny how life ends up. Whatever happened to Alice? I often wonder. My parents would have been furious if I'd brought her home. Instead, they set me up with my third cousin, Nan Holmes - and the rest, as they say, is history. …Two kids later!

But Peggy, she reminds me of sweet Alice. When I look in her face and see that same determination, it's getting harder for me to not get sentimental.

-o0o-

April 4, 1968

The ANDY awards did not go as smoothly as expected. As we all know, the events of the day overshadowed the evening, and I am personally quite saddened by the tragedy. I abhor violence of any kind. I think the Negroes are right in wanting civil rights, and Dr. King was important to them. I just hope things don't get worse in the country. I was concerned about Peggy. Her boyfriend, that strange fellow with all the hair, left her ALONE to go report on riots uptown. Selfish jerk! He didn't even have the decency to make sure she got home safely. She said Don and his wife had offered her a ride home, but they're on the UES and Nan and I are closer, so we ended up taking her home instead. Nan wasn't terribly happy about it, but she was gracious enough, considering she was completely blotto on martinis anyway. She accidentally called Peggy "Porky" in the car. How embarrassing. She gets like that when she's had too much of the sauce. Lately she's been drinking pretty hard. Nan gets nasty when she's drunk.

Peggy looked so radiant tonight in her pretty dress. I admit, it was hard not to take my eyes off of her. I was so proud of her nomination, but had to break it to her that she didn't win after all. I didn't want her to be too disappointed if the night had gone on and her expectations were too high. The award went instead to Draper's wife. At least Peggy wasn't too put out about it, that I know of. We were all rather downcast, hearing the sad news of the reverend's assassination.

May 3, 1968

Writing this in the airport, waiting for my flight to Detroit, feeling really horrible and trying to sort out this mess I got myself into last night. In the morning, I got some devastating news. Frank is dying. He's only got a couple of months left in him. I'm so upset about it. I'm also really worried about the state of the agency when this happens. We're screwed.

I didn't want to face Nan and tell her this because I know she'll jump to conclusions and start blaming me for my failures, so I simply got drunk in my office last night. I am so upset about Frank. I can't imagine life without him at the office, complaining at his art table. Great friend. What a tragedy.

I just wanted to watch something silly, so I thought "Hazel" would do the trick, but the TV wasn't working right in my office and I just gave up. Then, Peggy showed up, and helped me get my TV back on the table. By that point my head was swimming and I was feeling tipsy and spouting at the mouth. I almost told her something I would have regretted, and stopped myself in the nick of time.

I really don't know what came over me, but she said something to me a few moments later, saying I was strong, and ironically I fell for her in that moment like a ton of bricks. I kissed her, and, heaven help me, she kissed me back.

It feels good to admit it out loud, even to a diary, because I've been wrestling with this all night. It was brief, but electric. It's the first truly bad thing I've ever done in my life! (Aside from blowing up Old Man Simmon's mailbox when I was 17, that is.)

If I'm going to go for a full confession, I'm glad I did it, but now I'm afraid I've opened Pandora's box. Feeling her lips moving softly against mine, even for those brief seconds, her breath, her perfume so different from Nan's - it took everything I had not to pull her into my arms and give her the true passion she awoke in me. Instead, she put her hands on my cashmere sweater and I knew it had to stop immediately. I was grateful she did that, but I blurted that out and she probably thought I meant I was grateful she kissed me back. I am.

As I said to her earlier, it's one thing to want something, it's another to need it. I need Peggy, she's going to be the one who carries on when Gleason dies. And if I want her like I did tonight, it's going to be so much harder. Now she knows how I feel. Now I know how she feels. I always was one to wear my heart on my sleeve. Dammit. When I close my eyes, all I can think about is her. I'm just weak. I'm a weak man.

I don't know what I'm going to do now. I'm so ashamed of myself, but to be honest, sometimes Ted Chaough ISN'T so nice.

All I can say is, I'm also grateful that I'm flying 1000 miles away for a few days to focus on this Chevy deal alone. I just have to keep pushing forward and ignore these feelings I have for her. I suppose admitting them is the first step. Every stewardess in the airport looks like Peggy, and every drunk woman in the lounge looks like Nan. I'm going to have some bad stress dreams tonight.

I can't stop thinking about that kiss. But I'm so ashamed.


	2. Chapter 2

June 1, 1968

The past few days have been spent packing up the old office. Peggy and I are on good terms. We both worked late the other night, so I got her a meatball sub from that place she likes, and I explained myself. We had a good laugh, and she forgave me. I think we'll be fine from now on. She's remarkably understanding. Sometimes I wonder if she's too understanding. She told me about that brownstone she and her boyfriend got, and wowee, I think she got herself a little bit in over her head. That's a really bad area of town. I got her some of that Mace stuff. I don't like the idea of her walking home there alone at night, so I made sure the driver would get her to her front door.

After some of the horror stories she's told me about SCDP, I'm kind of wondering what I got ourselves into with the merger. So far the changeover hasn't been too bad, but it'll be interesting to see where our styles go, and all that jazz. It sounds like her old creative team is pretty great, especially her friend Stan. She showed me a picture he drew for her once of Bobby Kennedy. He's good! I'm looking forward to working with him. Maybe they'll inspire the kids down the hall. She didn't have much to say about the other guy with the funny name. I forget what she called him, Gonzo?

Things are pretty bleak with Frank. I've been visiting him at the hospital every other day. He doesn't have anyone else. I don't have anyone else. I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes. Frank's like my older brother. It's too hard. I am currently looking at the painting he did of my son when he was born. We used the art in a baby food ad, and I've kept it in my den ever since. Things like that are going to be constant reminders that hurt a lot. I admit I'm crying right now, so pardon the tear splash.

When I broke Frank's news to Nan, she took it pretty badly. She and his wife played bridge for years. After she died last year, Nan lost interest in pretty much everything, and she's going through The Change, so she picks these fights over nothing all the time and gets these hot flashes. I just don't know these days. Everything is falling apart and changing.

I'll focus on the good things to try to feel a little better. Peggy got me a groovy little plant for my new office. I'll put it next to my model biplane. I will say that after touring SCDP, it looks to have a lot more light shining through the windows, which will be nice for the plant AND for me. And the view is fantastic. Absolutely breathtaking.

June 4, 1968

Boyyyy howdy! First full day at SCDP-CGC, or whatever the place is going to be called! We still haven't finalized the name. The movers broke one of my lamps, but overall everything got over there in one piece. Yahoo! I'm heading in in a few minutes. Wearing my sharpest suit. I want to make a good impression. I went in to kiss Nan goodbye but she was still passed out when I checked the bedroom. Her hot flashes have been so bad that she makes me sleep on the davenport in the den.


	3. Chapter 3

June 5th, 1968

Oh boy.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

I am never going near a bottle of Canadian Club again.

I haven't had a blinding hangover this bad since college, when Frank took me out for my birthday and I had half a bottle of rum. Draper got me blotto while going over ideas for margarine. We are definitely not cut from the same cloth. Serves me right. I've just got to get into the groove of things and see where our differing styles can move forward. I'm glad Peggy is there to help me with the transition, and learning how to understand Don Draper better. The man is impossible to read. I knew things were going to be different, but I had no idea how much.

I met with Creative before the big meltdown. The bearded man, Stan, seems like a pretty nice guy. I hope one day I can say the same about Mr. Ginsberg. Not the most inviting personality.

I'm in the den working on more ideas for margarine. Nan and our son are watching "Bewitched" in the sitting room. I have to say, I'm amused by the whole notion that those guys work in advertising. I never see anyone actually working on that show. People have joked that Nan is a witch, but she only gets that way when she's hit the sauce too hard. She's not that bad, usually.

Went to see Frank at the hospital again. It was a hard visit. He's looking worse and worse. Wendy apparently hasn't been to visit him once since he was admitted. They're having a lot of trouble with her of late. I'm not looking forward to the teenage years, myself. Kids today have no respect for their elders.

June 6th, 1968

Hooray!

Finally one-upped Draper! Took him up in the plane to check in on a client that Pete Campbell had abandoned. Scared the hell out of him! It was a great moment. Things went well with the meeting, as well.

Downside: I think Moira is starting to suspect something between me and Peggy. I'm not sure, but I'm self conscious every time Peggy shows up at my office. If anyone finds out about this, I don't know what I'll do. I can't risk sacrificing the foothold of any authority whatsoever I have, if anyone figures out how I feel about her.

If I'm going to be honest, I'm going to say it straight: I'm in love with Peggy. I can't help these feelings. Every time she comes near me with those huge, serious blue eyes, it takes everything I have in me to not sweep her in my arms and kiss her for real. And this terrifies me. Jim told me I had a face like a bag of walnuts, with all these circles under my eyes. I toss and turn all night. Nan heard me yell Peggy's name in my sleep last night and she made me sleep on the davenport. And it wasn't the first time. She has every right to be furious.

I just don't know what to do.

I'll discuss my dream, though. Peggy, in a beautiful evening gown, spreading margarine on toast and feeding it to me. It's delicious. I lean in and we kiss passionately. I rip off her dress and make love to her with furious passion. I'm so embarrassed to have these thoughts about this. But if I let my guard down even once, I'll embarrass everyone and make a mockery out of everything I've done in my career.

June 7th, 1968

Bobby Kennedy was assassinated last night. I am not in a mood to write anything other than Frank told me a funny joke and I needed that. It's too dirty to write down, but the punchline was fantastic.

Life without Jim is going to be bleak.

July 11th, 1968

Frank slipped away in his sleep early this morning. Nan called and told me the news at work. The funeral is on Saturday.

July 13th, 1968

The funeral was today. Peggy and I rode together to the cemetery. I wanted so badly to hold her hand, or feel some kind of touch, but all I got was her hand on my arm in the office.

It really was good of Peggy to attend. She and Frank weren't exactly on great terms, but she knew how much he meant to me. And really, Frank liked Peggy, even though he wasn't keen on hiring a woman for a copywriter. She grew on him eventually, and even went to see him once in the hospital, which meant a lot to him.

Wendy is looking worse and worse. I hope that kid straightens out soon.

Nan hated Frank, but she showed up to the ceremony at the church. I made sure Peggy sat a few rows back, and I didn't speak to her once when she was there. Nan is watching me like a hawk and calling every day to check in. I'm pretty sure she's grilling Moira.

I keep thinking about her in that evening gown in my dream.

July 15, 1968

Cutler's doctor strikes again. This place must have been a madhouse all weekend. It was ridiculous.

Tonight I went down to PJ Clarke's, where Frank and I used to work on ideas, and I had an Old Spanish. I caved and called Peggy at home. She wasn't there – I got her beatnik boyfriend instead. What a jerk.

I got her at her office instead. She was just on her way out. The tone in her voice was one of supreme irritation. Obviously things are going rather badly at the office, but she didn't want to discuss it on the phone. I told her to come meet me for a drink, and she said she'd be there in fifteen minutes. Right on time. There wasn't much room at the bar, so we took a small bench in the corner and had a beer and talked about Frank. She was not in the mood to talk about work. If it was Cutler's doctor, I can imagine that everyone was running around like Daffy Duck.

I thought I could handle having her around me in such close proximity, but smelling that perfume of hers drove me utterly wild. Feeling her elbow hitting mine every time she took a sip of beer. Feeling the heat off of her body. It took every fiber of my being not to put my hand on her leg. I started beating myself up for inviting her out alone. Doesn't her boyfriend get angry with her never being home? I don't get the feeling things are well between them, and it scares me. If she came into my office and told me she was through with him, I would find it even more difficult to keep my distance.

If she knew how I felt about her, it could absolutely wreck things at the agency. I can't go on like this for much longer. I feel like I'm going to fall apart every time I look at her. I dream about her constantly. It's dangerous. If it comes to it, I'm going to have to put my foot down and remember that I'm a married man with a child, and pretend my feelings for her never happened. The thought makes me physically ill.

July 17th, 1968

Nan may have found this diary. This might mean another religious retreat.


End file.
